


the taste of salty summer brine

by mischief7manager



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Irredeemable Filth, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 19:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief7manager/pseuds/mischief7manager
Summary: "By the third dream where Fjord opened his eyes to a murky, muted underwater vision, he… He wouldn’t say 'was used to it,' or 'knew what to expect,' but it wasn’t surprising anymore. The specifics were surprising, but he was aware by now that he’d gotten himself into something deeply fucked up. He still wasn’t sure what his patron would ask of him next, but he was as prepared as he could be, given the circumstances."So he thought."Consume.





	the taste of salty summer brine

**Author's Note:**

> this entirely and exclusively the fault of one specific person and you Know Who You Are

By the third dream where Fjord opened his eyes to a murky, muted underwater vision, he… He wouldn’t say “was used to it,” or “knew what to expect,” but it wasn’t surprising anymore. The specifics were surprising, but he was aware by now that he’d gotten himself into something _deeply_ fucked up. He still wasn’t sure what his patron would ask of him next, but he was as prepared as he could be, given the circumstances.

So he thought.

The great glowing eye loomed from the darkness, and the voice echoed in his mind. _Consume_.

Fjord swallowed. When he opened his mouth to speak, the ocean water flooded in, and only his force of will kept him from choking on it, despite knowing that he could breathe water as easily as air in the dream. “I don’t understand. Forgive me, but I have found no other weapons since last we spoke.” His own voice sounded strange after hours and days of using his false drawl. Funny how quickly he adapted to the part.

The enormous pupil narrowed. And once more it said: _Consume_.

Something wrapped around Fjord’s ankle. He yelled, bubbles blossoming from his mouth as he kicked out and the thing pulled him down, down, further into the waiting void. The enormous eye seemed impossibly to grow larger, or he grew closer to it. It cast an eerie yellow light over Fjord’s body— his naked body, he realized, looking down at himself. Had his clothes disappeared, or had he never been wearing them? He could clearly see, now, the fleshy tentacle dragging at his leg. It led him down, down, until he floated directly in front of the gaping eye.

Fjord cried out. The grip on his ankle was doubled, tripled, as tentacles wrapped around his ankles, wrists, waist. “What-” The tentacle around his waist was thicker than the others, and it tightened brutally until he gasped for breath, the salt water burning his throat. “What do you want?”

The grip on his waist loosened, and he felt the tentacle brush over his belly and chest, up until it came to rest against his cheek in a touch that sent shivers through his body. At that moment, Fjord recalled a conversation had in the Leaky Tap only the night before:

_It began with Beau, the least magically attuned of them. “Can the Gentleman really like. Track us? With the blood he took?”_

_Molly laughed. “You kidding? That’s the least he could do.” Beau looked surprised, and Nott put down her flask long enough to nod._

_“It’s true. Blood magic is old. Almost as old as saliva magic.” She patted her pocket with the Gentleman’s vial and winked._

_Molly, valiantly ignoring that, went on. “Blood magic and sex magic, my dear,” he said, tipping his mugful of ale in Beau’s direction. “The most powerful magic there is."_

_Fjord spluttered on his whiskey. “Sex magic?”_

_Across from him, Jester nodded fervently. “Yeah! It’s a thing! My mom would always get people who came to her on solstices and things.”_

_Fjord’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”_

_Her eyes widened. “Really. For all kinds of rituals and offerings and stuff.”_

Offerings.

A third time, the creature said: _Consume_.

Fjord took a shaking breath. “Alright,” he said. “Alright.”

He braced himself for— he wasn’t sure what. Something violent, surely. Instead, the tendril at his cheek slid to cradle the back of his head, almost… gently. The pressure at his waist relaxed further, and he felt it shift until it was barely brushing his chest. The very tip of the tendril brushed over his nipple, and Fjord gasped. His stomach twisted, with fear or arousal or some combination of the two, and despite himself he could feel heat pooling between his legs.

The tentacle at his chest pulled away. Fjord opened his mouth to question, maybe even to protest, but the touch was doubled, tripled, as tendrils slid over his chest, his belly, his thighs. They seemed to be exploring, or maybe investigating, because whenever he reacted to one reaching a particularly sensitive area there was a pause, and then, inevitably, the touch happened again. He shivered at the caress of his patron over his throat, his ribs, his hips, places he hadn’t realized it would feel so _good_ to be touched.

Another tentacle joined the others, this one between his shoulder blades. Fjord let out a low groan and arched into the touch as it stroked straight down his spine and _kept going, fuck_ , down the cleft of his ass until it pressed gently against his hole. Even that light touch was enough to make his cock twitch. “Holy shit,” he breathed, and made to reach down and touch himself.

He was stopped by twin grips on each of his forearms. “Wha-” He jerked against the restraints, but it was no use. Any protest he might have made was cut off by a sharp gasp as the tentacle at his entrance pressed against the tight ring of muscle and slipped inside him, the world of the dream allowing him to be already slick and waiting. He groaned again at the sensation, one he’d gone without for quite a while. The sex he had these days tended to be quick, fumbling things, and it had been far too long since he’d been laid bare and spread open like this.

Almost in response to his thought, the tendril inside him pushed in further. It seemed to be widening as it went, the pressure causing his breath to catch. It moved slowly, giving him time to adjust to the sensation. It felt like only moments until he was panting out, “More. More, please, I can- I can take it.”

The tentacle in his ass slid out slowly, and he whined at the loss. But then it was back, and another with it, two now pressing into him, opening him up. The tip of one brushed against his prostate and he keened, writhing in the grasp of the tentacles still wrapped around his wrists and thighs and waist, supporting him and stretching him out.

“More, please, please, I need-” He begged, and choked on a yell as the tendrils pressed against his prostate again, and again. His cock was throbbing now, hard and aching, and he was sure if he wasn’t floating in the dark water he would be able to feel the slickness dripping from the tip. One of the tentacles around his thigh stretched out to stroke against his balls and he cried out at the touch. “Fuck me, please, use me, just- please-”

He didn’t get the chance to say anything else. Another tentacle emerged from the gloomy depths, this one stroking over his lips before slipping into his mouth. Fjord welcomed it eagerly, moaning around the tendril and sucking hard. It stroked in an out of his mouth, each thrust deeper than the next until it was nearly choking him. He could feel his eyes watering, but he kept going. It felt too good to stop.

A third tentacle pushed into his ass and he howled. He’d never felt so full, thick, slick flesh driving into his ass and his mouth as he writhed and moaned. And still the other tentacles held him, their touches dancing over his nipples, pressing against his throat, until he could cry from sheer overwhelming sensation.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, at the mercy of his patron, reduced to a shaking, shuddering mess, but it seemed like hours. He couldn’t speak around the tendril fucking his mouth, but he still whined and begged, his aching cock cruelly neglected, unable to find release until his patron saw fit to give it to him.

Finally, _finally_ , a tendril wrapped around his cock. Fjord screamed, his whole body lighting up as the tendril jerked him hard and fast, the tip of it brushing over his cockhead on every stroke. Tentacles around his cock, in his mouth, in his ass, he was drowning in sensation, he could feel his balls tightening as he hurtled toward his release, driven on by ever stroke over his slit, his prostate, he was choking on his pleasure and he couldn’t stop it, he was crying and screaming and— and—

 

* * *

 

Fjord jolted awake as the strongest orgasm of his life swept through him. Instinctively he pressed his fist to his mouth, biting down on a scream as he cock jerked and his hips thrust up into nothing. It went on and on, wave after wave, until he was left, boneless and panting, staring up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, or tried to, but it turned into a cough, and he turned his head in time to spit a mouthful of salt water out onto the pillow next to him. He could feel his come soaking into his underthings, and what he knew, without a doubt, was more saltwater leaking from his ass to soak into the bedsheets underneath him. Fuck, what a mess.

“Y’alright?”

Fjord nearly jumped out of his skin. From across their shared room in the tavern, Molly blinked blearily at him, clearly having just been woken by— fuck, he hoped by the noise of him shifting around and not—

“Yeah,” he said, only just remembering to slip into the voice Molly knew him by. “Just a dream.”

Molly smirked. “Some dream.” He yawned theatrically and rolled over. “Night.”

Fjord leaned back to stare at the ceiling, sticky and soaked. “Yeah,” he said, trying to figure out how he was going to get to the laundry to wash his things and back before morning without anyone noticing. “Night.”

**Author's Note:**

> remember when i didn't know what kink was


End file.
